


Strong Enough   (to Not Do This On Your Own)

by Flowers_n_Dragons



Series: Idyllic Geraskier [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Loss, M/M, Missing Persons, Past Relationship(s), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Song: Welly Boots (The Amazing Devil), The Amazing Devil Lyrics, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27262255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowers_n_Dragons/pseuds/Flowers_n_Dragons
Summary: WARNING! Heavy, mature themes of loss, grief, mental illness and general angst. Mention of other relationship (did not tag to avoid spoilers).Also comfort and some sexiness.!!LINK TO ARTWORK IN CH. 2!!The muffled pitter-patter of a million cold raindrops creeped into the dreary, drafty inn room. The joints of the bed sighed low and raspy as Jaskier tossed and turned, cold sweat on his frowning brow. Frightened gasps and half-screams mingled with incomprehensible snippets of speech escaped his chapped lips. Geralt woke up to the commotion and with a sigh, slipped out from under their shared blanket. The mid-autumn nightmares and general gloom of his beloved bard had started again. He lit the candle on the nightstand and poured a cup of water for him. He wondered whether this would be the year Jaskier shared the real cause of his annual bout of depression; the year he really let him in instead of fake-smiling and reassuring him it was just the weather or something like that, and that all he needed was a hug and maybe some gentle lovemaking (that he was always happy to provide his lover with) ; obviously that was only treating the symptoms, not the cause.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Idyllic Geraskier [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116608
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33
Collections: Sordid Saovine - The Witcher Halloween Event





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lovely people this piece took me forever and made me cry several times. As in my culture end of October/1st November is about honoring saints and the dead, this is a humble effort on my part to capture its spirit. Again I restate there are mentions of trauma, loss and mental illness. I have incorporated my personal trauma in order to deal with my demons (it is not what Jaskier went through here). It is sad but the ending is happy/cathartic.  
> Also this is the softest I have ever written Geraskier. I loved it so much expect me to do it again :)  
> There is an abundance of TAD quotes and references; sorry not sorry, they are truly amazing. The title itself is from Welly Boots with a slight but important change. The melody Jaskier plays is also supposed to be from it, imagine your favorite part of this wonder of a song :) 
> 
> FOUND A WONDERFUL PIECE OF ART THAT ACCIDENTALLY FIT THIS STORY PERFECTLY! LINK IN CHAPTER 2 !

The muffled pitter-patter of a million cold raindrops creeped into the dreary, drafty inn room. The joints of the bed sighed low and raspy as Jaskier tossed and turned, cold sweat on his frowning brow. Frightened gasps and half-screams mingled with incomprehensible snippets of speech escaped his chapped lips. Geralt woke up to the commotion and with a sigh, slipped out from under their shared blanket. The mid-autumn nightmares and general gloom of his beloved bard had started again. He lit the candle on the nightstand and poured a cup of water for him. He wondered whether this would be the year Jaskier shared the real cause of his annual bout of depression; the year he really let him in instead of fake-smiling and reassuring him it was just the weather or something like that, and that all he needed was a hug and maybe some gentle lovemaking (that he was always happy to provide his lover with) ; obviously that was only treating the symptoms, not the cause.

It was the fourth year in a row, after one particularly long winter separation; it was already end of spring when the two of them, still very much platonic friends, met up in Novigrad. He knew instantly that something of great importance must have happened. The bard was clearly not himself; he was more rambunctious, more hurried to start downing ale, or anything alcoholic for that matter, in the evenings, and more eager to fall in bed with the first person that looked his way with the barest hint of desire in their gaze, especially when said person was male. Geralt had to deal with the damages, and a very hungover Jaskier afterwards. He tried setting him straight with words; first friendly, then berating, finally downright threatening. It was to no avail.

It all culminated in the two of them falling in bed (well technically, bedrolls) together, after a gloomy early autumn evening spent drinking and him listening to a depressed bard talking of anything and everything but about why he was hurting so much; Geralt (partly rightly so) figured out the puzzle for himself; that winter, he had missed his friend dearly, his ballads still ringing clearly in his ear; mulling over their words, slowly it hit home: his bard was enamored with him. To his own surprise, he'd found he had not minded in the least. He had grown fond of the beautiful man who had been his faithful companion on his Path for so many seasons ; the tiny spark of the realisation was enough to make his heart and his lust to catch on fire. So that particular evening, he felt it was time he shook Jaskier out of his suffering by simply sitting next to him while they were still (somewhat) sober, then leaning in for a kiss, giving him enough space to say no if he chose not to take the leap.

To his immense delight, his precious bard claimed his lips as if he was the only source of air in the middle of the ocean and he'd have drowned without the witcher's mouth on his own. Needless to say, the dawn found them entangled in each other, and the following months until their winter separation were spent exploring this new facet of their relationship (meaning kissing and fucking each other senseless as often as possible). That Saovine, the bard had been mostly happy, his nightmares chased away quickly by the loving caresses of Geralt. The witcher did not wish to push him more emotionally, though he acutely felt the lingering remnants of gloom in his beloved's heart. 

The following mid-autumns were spent with consolation, yet never any explanation, and with each year, Geralt could not help but feel more and more sour about it. They had grown close; intimate not only sexually but spiritually as well. These had been the happiest years of the witcher's life and he found he could care less about what was supposed to be proper for him according to any teaching, dogma or belief as long as his songbird, his sunshine was happily calling him his, wrapping him in his love and vice versa.

Therefore, he was especially upset about this one thing, this one place he wasn't allowed in. Yet he knew Jaskier; forcing him would yield no result. He was incredibly secretive about the darker parts of his life; it took him a year to tell him about his childhood traumas; the verbal abuse and the bullying. Geralt's imagination ran wild what hurt his songbird so bad that a decade's worth of friendship and four years of being lovers was not enough to let go of it. He vowed to help his dearest to fight these demons.... If only he knew what they were so he could get started on the how.

With a deep sigh, he took off his shirt then climbed back under the covers and wrapped his arms around the similarly half-naked Jaskier, waking him up with soothing whispers and small, tender kisses on his face, neck and shoulder blades. Finally, he awoke, still shaking, but thanks to Geralt's continued ministrations, his breathing and heartbeat gradually abated. Jaskier turned to face his lover, sad blue eyes with a flicker of the candlelight in them, looking into Geralt's amber ones. Geralt, heart breaking for his songbird, caressed his face, wiping the remnants of tears away. "What do you need, sweetest?" he asked quietly. 

"A cup of water would be great" he answered, with a dry throat. Geralt smiled, sat up and reached for the cup and handed it to him momentarily. 

"Thank you, love," the bard whispered with wonder and gratitude in his gaze, then sat up as well, leaning against the headboard to gulp down the cool liquid. He remained quiet after, his fingers toying with the empty tin cup. Geralt observed him patiently; he was still clearly upset and in trepidation. The witcher hoped against all hope that he would finally say something, anything.

Jaskier put the cup aside then turned to him and said, 

"Make love to me; make me feel treasured ; make me feel I am your everything", then kissed him, slowly yet desperately. 

Geralt smiled against his lips bitterly;

"If you are sure this is what you really want, love, I shall make you feel like you are the very center of the Universe."

"Please", he begged softly yet insistently. 

Geralt could never say no to Jaskier. He put his disappointment and ego aside and proceeded to worship his songbird; every stroke of his finger, every brush of his lips against skin he accompanied with a praise whispered; his adoration flowing like a river both from muscle and mind, covering the bard from the ends of his hair to the tips of his toenails and back again, the soft sensual simmer of excitement trickling across the rocky riverbed that was the bumps, dips and planes of Jaskier's body. The bard could only sigh, sob and wail as he grew overwhelmed; Geralt muffled the moans from the holiest yet most devilish mouth he had ever had the pleasure of bequeathing kisses to with his(and he told him as much), blanketing his lover entirely with the mass and heat that was so unique to him, his white curtain of a hair a wall around their faces the outside world could not breach; then when it all became too much, both of them vibrating with raw, visceral want, Geralt broke apart, just barely, to lift one eyebrow in askance as their gazes met. Jaskier raised his brow in response and closed his eyes as they joined in one smooth roll of hips, gasping with the intensity of it. Jaskier whispered his love declaration over and over again to Geralt's ear as they danced the ageless dance to the rhythm of the rain, then to the beat of the bard's heart, then lastly to some frantic drums only thrumming in their ears until finally reaching their ends in a harmony of howls.

Geralt gingerly rolled off his lover, his adoring eyes never parting from him as he laid on his side, his breathing slowly turning from pants to deep sighs. Jaskier turned onto his side as well, then burrowed into the chest of his witcher, inhaling his scent while the fine, curly hairs were tickling his face in all the right ways. After he descended from his high, eyes still downcast, he whispered "Thank you, love. For being so good to me; for not pushing me to..." his voice hitched. 

"Hey..... Shhhh.... You take all the time you need, love", he whispered, reassuring. 

"it's not fair to you, closing you out, and I know it... hurts you. Yet you are here for selfish me nevertheless." 

Geralt put a hand on top of his head, painting invisible patterns on his scalp. 

" Why are you holding unto this pain, Jaskier? I feel powerless ; I can't fight a monster if I do not know what it is. And I want to slay all your monsters for you, no, with you, love, as you have mine; if only you'd just let me... Why do you think you have to do it alone? This is what hurts me most. No, don't say anything. I shall be patient nevertheless. Just promise me whatever this is it won't make you wither; that it won't take you away from me. Now that I have you, my sunshine, I can't bear that idea. " With that, he snaked his arm around the smaller man, hugging him as if an invisible force had been grabbing at his lover, yanking them apart. 

Jaskier, deeply struck by those words, looked up, with his eyes teared up." Oh my Wolf... I knew you would be perfect for me the moment I set eyes on you, but this much? I would have never dreamed of... No, I shall not wither, how could I, darling, now that I have the kindest soul and the hottest body of the Continent" he winked, with the mischievous glint of his eyes back (that Geralt equally loved and feared ) , a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "to keep me thriving?" 

"Hmmm, that you do." Geralt smiled back, glad at his partner's improvement of mood. "Now, there's still time until sunrise; let's go back to sleep." 

"Oh no, we are still sordidly sticky with... Everything. I'll just...." he tried to get up, but Geralt pulled him back, making him fall back to the mattress with an undignified yelp. The witcher slid out of the bed, swiftly grabbed his previously discarded shirt and used it to wipe themselves off quickly.

" Will that do? Now, sleep." Geralt commanded him, voice half-serious, while he took his previous position of holding his bard in his arms. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

" Oh you just love it when I smell like this, don't you? That's why you don't want to clean up properly after sex; you smell your mark on me." Jaskier stated cheekily and closed it with a huge yawn. Geralt tried to protest with a garbled sound. "Oh don't you deny it. It's not like I've just noticed this, love. Actually, it's quite adorable. Your possessiveness. If it makes you feel content, I shall gladly suffer the mild discomfort of improper hygiene."

"You can clean up properly if it bothers you."

" I know. I choose not to. It really is not that bad. I guess I also love the idea of being claimed thusly. But only if it's you." 

" Hmmm. I am so special." 

"You have no idea, dear." With that, he drifted back to sleep. Geralt, listening to Jaskier's calm breathing, enveloped in their mixed scent, soon followed.

The grey morning found Jaskier alone. He wasn't surprised; Geralt took a contract the previous day and wanted to complete it as fast as possible so they could enjoy each other's company before the bard was required to take the stage in the tavern ; or, Jaskier grimaced as he got up and dressed, if things did not go well, there was time for him to patch up the injuries sustained by his lover. He would rather not dwell on the second option, however. He was in quite a gloomy mood despite the wonderful lovemaking of the night; he spent most of the day practicing some trickier techniques of lute-playing to get his mind off his troubles. 

Geralt did come back unharmed around noon. Nevertheless, he was in a dreary mood. His eloquence from last night, which had improved considerably as their relationship progressed, much to Jaskier's self-satisfaction and immense pleasure, was now long gone, his communication reduced to grunts, hums and utterances of three words or less. 

Jaskier did his best to pamper his partner, knowing full well what the witcher needed when in such state; he remained quiet, for himself, keeping his words to the absolute minimum, only humming the sweetest bittersweet melodies that came to him, stopping even that at the slightest twitch of an eye. He had a bath drawn for the witcher, which he infused with a small amount of soothing herbs: lemongrass and a hint of lavender, helped him out of his mud-crested armour, boots and other clothing, and as the tub was big enough for the two of them, got in it and positioned himself so that Geralt's back was leaning against his chest. While he washed the mottled mane of his lover, massaging his scalp gently, he felt the tension seep out of him and completely relax against his body. Jaskier could not help but feel his heart swell and warm at the fact that they could be this intimate non-sexually; that it was his privilege to comfort his Wolf and that he was very successful at it. 

"Better, my love?" he asked softly. 

"Much. Thank you, Jaskier." he said, voice full of warmth, then slipped his right hand under his partner's and lifted it gently to his lips to kiss every fingertip lightly. The other shuddered from the sensation. 

"What happened? If you care to share." 

"It was a devourer. Just as I suspected. She put up quite a fight. Nothing I could not handle, though. When she was dead, I searched the lair. For the remains of the missing woman. But there was nothing, Jaskier. Not a trace. She wasn't grabbed by the monster. She just disappeared. To thin air. I.... lied. There were other.... remains that I collected then presented those to the grieving family, claiming that she was indeed the victim of the monster."

"Mmh. So they could find peace. Is that why?" he asked softly. 

" Yes. They needed closure . These disappearances...They happen more often than you'd think. The family seeks out a witcher as they suspect a monster. Yet as it turns out, the monster is ... within. A sickness of the mind, distorting the personality. It ends often with them just going into the wild, on purpose or already gone half mad, and they.... They don't come back. Probably kill themselves. Or the wilderness takes them. The first couple times, I told the relatives the truth; that I couldn't find them, there weren't any monsters, or if any, they could not be blamed for their loss. The survivors went half mad with grief themselves; the hurt in their eyes, their voices, their smell..... Shattered families, grieving children, heartbroken spouses... so one time, I decided it would not harm to forge evidence. When I gave it to the family , they were.... Relieved. Grieving, sure, but they thanked me for my service, not just with coin but with their whole hearts, for putting an end to their existence in that ambiguous vacuum, lost between despair and hope."

Jaskier was deep in thought as he listened, massaging his partner's shoulder idly. When Geralt quieted, he spoke up, voice raising above the water like steam. 

" I lost an unborn child. "

Geralt froze up. 

He did not dare to utter a word, much less move. 

"That winter, four years ago, I met someone who turned everything upside down. Her name was Jadwiga. Despite all that had transpired, all the misery she caused in the end, I strive to remember how she was, how we were originally. Because it was nothing short of magical, then. The moment we set our eyes on each other, I felt lost and found at once; we slotted into each other's soul perfectly. We could talk easily about anything it seemed, and could sing and laugh and dance together ... and we set fire to the sheets in bed. And that glint in her eyes... She... She made me forget the pain from my then-unrequited love for you" he said weakly, to the nape of the other's neck, then kissed the moist skin there, before laying the right side of his face against it, snaking his arms around the scar-ridden torso of his lover. 

"You have me now, love", Geralt tried soothing him, gently putting his hands on top of his smaller ones, just waiting for him to calm down a little. 

"I had been longing for you so long and deep.... My dear heart did know about that... figured it out from the ballads. She was nothing but supportive and accepting; said she did not mind if I went back to traveling with you in the spring if that was my desire. Yet, with each passing day, our inferno of a love burned stronger, shaping me in ways I had only dreamed and well, sang of."

"She sounds quite remarkable. Would you like to tell me more about her and what happened as we dry off? You are getting cold."

They left the bathtub; Geralt draped a large towel over Jaskier's shoulders, then asked "May I?", lifting the corner of the fabric to eye level, his intent of caring for his beloved clear. Jaskier nodded and leaned against his touch as he patted the moisture away. 

It was still early afternoon, but the sky remained overcast, the room thus dimly lit, with drab white curtains hiding what was happening behind the windows. Once dry yet still naked, Jaskier hugged Geralt, an intimate yet innocent gesture. The witcher held him close for a while, then led him to the bed, both of them clambering back under the heavy blankets. Jaskier, his voice raw with emotion, continued his long-awaited confession while draped across Geralt's chest, listening to his inhumanly slow heartbeat, tracing the scars within easy reach idly.

"She was a visiting grammar professor at Oxenfurt that winter semester. A kind, oval-shaped face framed by red hair. Gorgeous blue eyes, a clever glint in them at all times; brilliant sense of humour. Lips sculpted to be kissed with adoration by the very gods. Soft, pliant, curvaceous body with just the right flexibility for dancing and well, for other delightful activities. We met at a faculty dinner ; she was seated close enough that we could engage in conversation. As the evening progressed I asked her for a dance and things heated up quickly; we were flirting shamelessly, oh goodness you would have been rolling your eyes so hard if you had had heard", he chuckled bitterly, his visage dreamy, clearly lost in his memories. "Her touches were clever, sensual yet still maintaining decorum. I still have goosebumps just from remembering the first time she ran her fingertips down my arms. That was the moment I decided I would not wallow in my unrequited love for you. The moment I knew I wanted her, and she me. We left the room hand in hand, giggling like teenagers, with a bottle of wine snatched from the tables, grabbed our coats then found a secluded balcony that was bathed in the silver moonlight, with evergreen shrubbery all around. The air hit our lungs, icy sharp, but we cared not; we drank and sang some folk song about stars and lost lovers, her soprano breathy and slightly off-key, but joyous and sweet. I kissed her hand thereafter, looking into those sky blues reflecting the moonlight and myself. She simply grabbed the front of my coat and pulled me down for a searing first kiss.... She tasted of spicy wine and walnuts and winter winds above the Pontar. Sweet Melitele, I would have taken her right then and there, bent over the balustrade, her round, pale bottom peeking out from her heavy dark overcoat, if it had not been for the cold. As it were, we ended up in her quarters, losing all our.clothes and all our inhibitions on our way from the entrance door to her bedroom. She screamed her pleasure, unabashed, into the pillows twice, then rode me into the very dawn, a vision to behold, her pale skin glowing with sweat, red locks unruly, wisps of them plastered on her brow and shoulders; she made me see the heavens twice as well."

"Hmmm. Quite the vixen by the sound of it." 

"She was; but it wasn't just the incredible sex. This first night is quite representative of how attuned we were, but that was only the beginning. It was about kindness, support, kinship, too... Her helping me with research when I grew impatient and restless, and me helping her with presentation skills; she had trouble speaking to larger audiences. Add to that the passion, the fun and laughter and the music, and it all felt just... "

"Perfect?" 

"Unbelievably so. Then, two months into this inferno of a relationship, against all our precautions, she realized that she had conceived my child. Our child, a life that the two of us created. It would have been born around this time of year..." he trailed off, his grief-tinted oration devolving into simpers and sobs. All Geralt could do was to hold and caress him with a reassuring hand; he had been familiar with how the power of touch affected his beloved positively. At first he was reluctant, but as their bond deepened, he found himself just as fond of their intimate bodily contact. Naturally, it worked again and Jaskier continued with a bitter but unwavering tone. 

"Oh, how nervous she had been, telling me the news, shy, uncertain, afraid, even, not daring to look into my eyes. It was unnecessary, as curiously, my usual urge to bolt, escape, through the window if need be, from the shackles of such situations, did not emerge. Truly, I felt nothing but elation. I was going to settle and start a family, Geralt, can you believe it? Then, I very much could. And it made me happy just to think about it, our future together. Me earning our bread with teaching and performing and publishing books, her caring for our babe, then later sharing our academic and parental duties, so she would not be forced to leave her beloved students nor abandon her research. I could see little, chubby hands grabbing at my lute ; big blue eyes over round, rosy cheeks looking at me and Jadwiga with pure love.... A voice mixing with ours, singing lullabies... A brave, rambunctious boy, playing with a wooden sword, dancing with his mother, a red-haired, mischievous girl running around a field, making flower crowns with me to put on our heads.... 

I wanted all that to come true. 

I even entertained the idea of getting married ...She was, however, not a fan of the idea. 'Both of us are way too free-spirited for that, dear heart', she said, laughter bubbling from her lips. She even ensured me that I would be free to return to being a traveling bard for shorter periods after the babe was born as she knew how important it was for me, and well, how much I cared for you still. I did miss you that winter and spring, that's for certain. I wanted to share that bliss and excitement with my friend."

"I missed you too...You do know that was the winter I had realized we could be more than friends... I missed your voice, your scent, your easy smiles, even your mischief more with each passing day. But I would have been so happy for you, seeing you so content, with a new family to give you a new purpose; I would have been fine with staying friends." 

" I know you would have", he whispered back. 

"Do you want to tell how it didn't happen? Your new life", Geralt pried gently. 

"I suppose I should... It was the horror of horrors. My dear heart was healthy, glowing, her cute, soft belly slowly filling up, those little rolls of fat she sometimes felt conscious about, protecting our little one. We were spending hours daydreaming of how the babe will look, smell, sound like, at least when not busy earning coin with performances and teaching so we could move to a bigger place.

Then as nature had awakened and burst with new life, she stopped growing. That was the first sign; but the midwife she called said it may be nothing, we will just have to wait and see. But then, the tiny movements only she could feel inside her belly got weaker, until one otherwise bright, sunny day, the babe went completely still. Jadwiga stayed in bed for two whole days, waiting for a tiniest flutter, crying rivers of tears at times. Her friends came to keep her spirits up as I ran around looking for the midwife and a healer or sorcerer versed in such matters. I still remember it as it happened yesterday.... I brought them to that tiny room, filled with flowers and sadness, shafts of sunlight striping the covers and pillows on her sickbed. Nonetheless, there was nothing they could do. Just stood there after examining her, shaking their bowed heads then kindly left us to process the news in privacy...

We were devastated, clinging to each other so tightly it almost hurt, wailing and sobbing for what seemed like infinity. Everything shattered to a million pieces in and around us. Then... Then she was administered some sort of potion to make her give birth to the fetus so she didn't perish as well. That procedure, however, was long and bloody and so torturous, Geralt, I was going half mad just as her partner; at one point I had to leave her side, left her in her friend's care, to go out and just scream and wail my grief out on the abandoned riverbank.

But the worst was that this trauma transformed my dear heart; she became a mere husk of her previous self; her eyes, previously glinting with joy, went blank, cold and distant. Her voice bleak but sure, she outright refused seeing and saying our goodbyes to our stillborn. She forbade me to even look at it. She didn't want anything to do with "that dead bloody thing". But it was my child who died, the one we were expecting and dreaming about together, the one I couldn't wait to meet and hold in my arms.... And my soul wept that I couldn't even say farewell properly. Yet I still had Jadwiga, for that I thanked all the gods, and I couldn't not respect her wish. I remained by her side, watching over her that first night, thankfully she could sleep with the help of some concoction.

The next day, however, she began pushing me away. I kept holding onto us, my love still strong, my soul resilient. But it was to no avail. She grew colder and more hateful with every passing hour, it seemed. I was called.... Terrible things by her." 

"Shhh you don't have to repeat them. It's over now. You are nothing but wonderful, my love. My beautiful songbird. My brave bard. My dearest friend. My caring, kind partner." Geralt tried soothing him with praises and gentle touches, in an effort to pour all his love on him. Jaskier teared up, but continued. 

"It wasn't just words flung at me in grief. It was as if her perception, even her memories and attitude about me and our relationship changed, distorted into a horrible, shallow, , abusive, oppressive parody of itself. Yet I stood by her still, although it was poisoning me, slowly but surely. I started believing the addled notions her mind forged. I became a scum, a monstrous abusive piece of shit in my own eyes, someone unworthy of anything good in the world.

After a particularly nasty evening, I could not stand it anymore. I began to think about my dear Witcher friend who could maybe tolerate my unworthy self. So I asked a sorceress to help finding out where you were. I left Jadwiga to her misery, saying goodbye with all the kindness I could muster, my heart aching. Unsurprisingly, I got vile words and scorn as a parting gift from someone whom I would call dear heart, a woman that used to be kind and gentle and passionately in love with me. That added to my grief, plus with the remnants of my unrequited feelings resurfacing as I was about to reunite with you, ended up with me breaking, abandoning my romantic ideals. I just wanted to be the scoundrel who was all about having a good time, playing my music, dulling the pain of loss that flared up so frequently with alcohol and sex, fucking whoever was willing and preferably not a two-faced, deceitful female.

I have to apologize again that you had to deal with that mess, love. You practically saved me from myself that night, our first night as lovers, with your sweet kisses, your whispered adoring words... In your arms that night, I have started believing again I was someone good, someone worthy."

"You are, my sunshine. Worthy of all the world's treasures."

"I have no need of such as long as I can be at home in your arms." Jaskier lifted himself, his face coming in line with Geralt's, gazing into his amber eyes as if he was immersed in watching a particularly picturesque sunset, then gently bowed to place his lips on his lover's, languidly laying claim to his territory in soft, small sweeps of tongue. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled up, Jaskier still shaken but a cooling touch of relief upon his soul, holding onto his lover tightly, who comforted him with gentle touches and even sweeter kisses until the last bout of gentle sobbing ceased. Then, just before the bard had to get up and prepare for his upcoming performance, the latter spoke up. 

"I have a proposition, love. You need to honor the memory and properly say goodbye to your child that you never met. I... There is a ceremony that we came up with my brothers. To say goodbye to the children who didn't make it through the Trials.... We kept notebooks with their names, sometimes even sketched their picture in them. During Saovine, every year, we had a candle lit for them while we read their names, starting with those who died most recently. We told stories of them. Some of my brothers recited poetry or sang songs. If we had time, energy and the adults didn't catch us, we would recount as many names from previous years as possible. I... Still do this. Putting the names of victims, especially those of who went missing, in my notes. Reading through them, remembering, honoring their memory. Reminding myself why I am on the Path: so that the length of the list gets shorter each year."

"How come I never knew about this?" 

"At first, it seemed too personal to share, then, as we got closer, I felt putting this burden on you would be unnecessary. Especially from that particular autumn on, I definitely didn't want to add to your misery. Just wanted to comfort you, any way you would let me. "

"Then I would like to propose something myself, dear witcher: let's not lock away the darkest reaches of our souls from each other, ever again. And yes. I would very much like to say farewell properly to my little one. I did try to compose a song before, for that purpose, but all I managed to come up with was a snippet of a melody... The thorny vines of grief had been too tightly wound around my creativity. But I want to play that melody at least during this Saovine.... May it reach its sweet little soul in that Great Unknown... " Jaskier's voice grew weak again.

"I wanted that babe, that family with her and our child so much Geralt....I had planned what school he or she would go to, what instrument would I teach or have taught him.... Or her. Somehow I imagined it to be a girl, most of the time. And all of that was taken away in mere days... My hope, my love, my....soul ripped apart by the claws of death and madness, drenched in blood, thrown in an unmarked grave. "

"What about the mother? Jadwiga? What became of her?" 

"I know nothing and want to know nothing of her. I have given my very best to her and she wouldn't have had it. I got to the point that I sincerely wish her the best, but I don't want to set my eyes upon her ever again. We are just done." 

"Fair enough. Now, I think you should get ready, my little lark. Make them toss their coins at you." Jaskier chuckled at that and bestowing a last kiss for the time being, did just that. 

The night of Saovine, when the divide between the realms of living and dead was narrowest, saw Jaskier and Geralt on a little hill overlooking a cemetery, previously cleaned of monsters and specters by the aforementioned witcher. They sat atop a boulder, Geralt holding his notebook, Jaskier playing a sad, serene melody, the music flying up to the waning moon and possibly even further; he hoped the vibrations of lute and his almost-fatherly heart could cross that breach in the fabric of the universe to find his unborn child's soul. 

There was a lone candle between them, glued to the rock by droplets of its own wax, illuminating the crinkled parchment and the names written upon them. The ink was deepest in hue, barely dry on the last entry, with Jaskier's neat calligraphy, spelling simply Little One. Geralt read his list of names, slowly, with great pauses, recalling each and every person he could not help from leaving this mortal coil the past year, and the ones that vanished without a trace, their loved ones providing him with nothing but a name and a meager description of them. When he reached that last entry, he wanted to pass the notebook to Jaskier; however, he refused with a shake of his head, eyes brimming with tears. 'Read it, please', his gaze pleaded the witcher. So he did.

"Little One. I wish that you had the chance to know your father. He has so much love, so much passion and energy... He would have showered it all on you. But you were to remain a dream; he wishes he had the chance of knowing you. I wish that too. He misses you so much, he can't find the words to say his farewell. Which is, I'm telling you, quite a feat, making him shut up just like that." Jaskier had a strange, sobbing/chuckling sound leave his throat at that. In all seriousness, I wish you find peace and love where you are now, akin to what you could have found in his arms. He sends all that he is, all that he feels through his music to you. Please listen to it carefully. Farewell, Little One." 

He closed the notebook. 

Jaskier played the bittersweet melody once again, then let his soft whisper, like wisps of smoke, rise up to reach the stars above. 

"Farewell, my child. Love you so much, Little One."


	2. Artwork link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link to artwork

Let me just say that this fandom with all the lovely, thirsty, talented, and above all, kind people in it, is a true marvel and I'm honored and blessed to be a part of such community.

  


Not one hour had passed after the publication of this piece when I came upon a wonderful artwork. My heart went racing on looking at it: it looked like as if it was made to be an illustration for the lovemaking scene! The atmosphere! The gentleness! The love! *faints*

  


Perfection!!! 

  


So naturally I had to ask, and luckily, was granted permission to link this lovely artwork to my story. Enjoy!

  


Again, it was not originally an illustration for my story. We have had no previous communication with the artist. Art and Geraskier made this magical conjunction happen! :) 

  


[tumblr ~wannastayugly](https://wannastayugly.tumblr.com/post/633269708800573440/say-youre-mine-and-give-yourself-to-the-feelings)

  


[Twitter ~thebardjaskier](https://twitter.com/thebardjaskier/status/1321610393538670594?s=19)

  


[Instagram ~wannastayugly](https://instagram.com/wannastayugly?igshid=hrowad616o5y)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed and got the message I tried to convey. Kudos and comments are love and make me create more so please.... You know what to do. ;)


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